I am Not a Bard
by Syrein-Murphamy
Summary: John Murphy is mess, a musically talented, recently not homeless mess. Bellamy Blake is a successful divorce lawyer to the rich and famous. Both have been used and abused by those they loved. Will they be able to heal? Does Murphy even want to? Read and find out! *Songfic, M/M, F/F, M/F, Underage, Rape/Noncon, BDSM, DaddyKink, RavenIsEvil
1. Chapter 1

-Alrighty! So this is my first published fic in ages, it is a songfic a bit. Murphy uses his music to help get out some of his more complex emotions. The songs used in the chapters will be posted at the beginning of each one, please listen to them as they were hand picked for Murphy and this story!-

 _~Singing~ "Memory"_ 'Thoughts'

Song: Incubus- Wish You Were Here.

Chapter 1

It was nearly six o'clock in the evening when John Murphy's bus pulled up at the downtown terminal in the heart of Toronto. The bus was packed.. People pushed for more room and clutched the hand wrungs, no one looked happy. Murphy didn't care. He took up two seats with his bag, guitar and body which was slouched low. The people stared down their noses at him and if they made eye contact he just smirked and patted his bag with a grin. Murph tapped his fingers, nails a beautiful shade of dark plum, along the canvas surface. The rhythm of his music drifted through his headphones, he did not care. He looked up, past his reflection to gaze out the window at the clear night. Lights flicked by on inky blue sky and he thought of Kane. Marcus Kane, the man that took everything from him, not that he didn't freely offer up all he had... When the bus finally stopped and he stood and waited for it to empty, he sang quietly under his breath. ~ _The worlds a rollercoaster, and I am not strapped in.. Maybe I should just hold with care but..~_

Murphy gripped the pole in front of him with one hand and his armbands jingled. With the other he wrapped his luggage around his wrist and hoisted it. When it was his turn to exit, Murphy left through the closest door to his right. Unfortunately it just so happened to be the door that people were trying to get in at the same time, figured. Most of the men he encountered wore suites and had bad haircuts, well, that's what Murphy thought of them. He raised an eyebrow at the nearest gentleman who looked back like deer in lights. 'I must be quite the sight, I guess' he grinned inwardly. Murphy was slim, almost feminine. His long-sleeved shirt was artistically torn in various places. It was enough that there were more holes than the baggy cloth that hung on him. His jeans were skin tight and black, the lines of his hips were clearly visible. The pants were held up by various belts and perhaps even a chain or two. Although those could have been for style rather than function, who really knew.

Murphy quickly slid his kohl smudged eyes over the suits and sighed when they didn't outright move for him. He pushed past with an outstretched, purple tipped hand in fingerless gloves. As he walked down the steps he shouldered his measly bag and guitar and pushed his way through the dumbfounded commuters. He was fairly sure that his bag hit someone when he heard a faint mumble so he flipped the bird backwards and kept walking. Perhaps he didn't have a bounce in his step, but he was certainly in the best mood he had been in the last year. It was chilly outside, not unusual for a mid October night in Toronto but Murphy, once again, didn't care. He watched his breath puff ever so slightly in the orange glow of street lamps and tucked his hands into his pockets. Once he was away from the terminal he walked head down but with a purpose, he dug a small scrap of paper from his pocket. He sang, oblivious, _~Maybe I should hold with care, but my hands are busy in the air saying..~_

As Murphy looked at the paper in his hand, off white with a cheap motel name printed across the top, he thought back to how he came upon it. It was probably about a month or two after his 18th birthday, he was just getting in from work and he smelled it. Old lady perfume. That sickly-sweet, floral scent that cougars wear in attempts to attract a buck. He knew at that moment, well probably, his mind didn't let him register shit all until he saw it. It started with some tacky suit jacket in the livingroom and traveled to the bedroom door where he found beige spanks. Ew. When he opened the door was the moment that he felt it all hit home. Kane, some bitch and a mass of writhing flesh, _"Marcus! Your son!"_ He broke.

On the paper was a downtown address that apparently belonged to his foster brother, Drew. Growing up Murphy wasn't at all close with Drew but he had known him since he was five so when it all went down... _"I'm not his fucking son you stunned cunt!"_ Well, he decided that Drew was his best shot. People always used to compare the two, Drew was the golden child, the real son.. and Murphy was just the add on, the extra effort. _"John, get out! Abby I can explain, he's-"_ He stood in front of a shabby apartment and checked to make sure he buzzed the right suite. Yup, 206. Murphy fixed the best smile he could manage to his face and waited. _"Im his fucking boyfriend,_ _Abby_ _!"_

The intercom crackled to life, "Hey, hey!" Murphy cocked his head to the side and pressed a painted nail to the button.

"Uh, hey Drew, its Murph..." As soon as he released the button the door buzzed loudly. Somewhat startled Murphy hiked his belongings a little further onto his back and went inside. The hall was nice enough, worn but not dirty, and although there were a few lights burned out it felt homey. At this point he thought, anything would be considered homey. Murphy had ran off at fifteen with the man he thought loved him. Marcus Kane had just finished college, he was smooth talking and enticing. The age gap didn't bother him at the time, he was starved for affection, he needed someone to need him and when Kane asked him to leave.. there wasn't a second thought. He made his way to the second floor and found 206 easily, the hall smelled of at least four different ethnic cooking styles and it was great. Before he could knock, the door was being swung open and he was being embraced. Murphy squeaked a bit and he was actually happy to see Drew, his brother felt the same as he always had. He could trust him. It was safe.

The night that Murphy found out about Abby, after some yelling, screaming and crying, he left. He packed his single bag all the while slinging insults at the clearly confused woman. Kane had tried to stop him, at which point the woman had started screaming something about pedophiles, Murphy cried harder. He slung his guitar around himself and never looked back, he felt angry, disgusted and hopelessly heart broken. After busking a bit of cash singing and strumming he had made enough for some booze and a motel room. The stench of stale cigarettes permeated the air as he drank and cried on the ugly, green carpet. After what felt like hours lost in booze and deleting all of his social media accounts, he found his foster brothers number and called him. They made a plan to get him stay out east, he just had to work enough to get the cash to get to Toronto.

"Holy shit John, I never thought I would get to see you again! You just ran off without saying anything last time, just that stupid note, and no one has really heard from you until... you know..." Drew squeezed him and Murphy could swear he heard a vertebrae pop. Gently patting his foster brother on the back, Murphy tried to lean off a bit. He hadn't been much for drawn out physical contact as of late. On his journey across Canada he had worked with many grabby hands and it left a sort of wall built around him. Murph had done so much that he regretted every night, until now, now it was all worth it. The sleazebag men and women, the clubs, everything he went through in the past year had gotten him to this point.

"Please, call me Murphy. John was so four years ago." With one last squeeze, Drew released him and grabbed his bag. Drew chuckled and tried to make small talk as he led Murphy into the apartment, not that Murph heard anything. He removed his combat boots that were barely tied in the first place and leaned on the wall behind him. He took in his surroundings, a real bachelor's pad, that was certain. There were posters of half dressed women on the walls in the entrance and he assumed elsewhere. As Murph straightened up he looked at what seemed to be a bunch of key hooks on a faded wooden bus that hung on the wall by the intercom. Just as he took note of a particularly buxom blonde in the kitchen 'Hey at least it's in a frame..?' he thought, Drew placed his hand on his shoulder and he was pulled from his observations.

Murphy jumped a bit and Drew laughed again, "Whoa there Murphy, jumpy much?" He didn't wait for an answer and strode into the hall on the right, "This here is your room, sorry for all the junk, I haven't had a roomie in a while." Drew looked sheepish as he opened the door to a room that was practically filled to the brim with boxes. Past the clutter Murphy could make out a bed which made his muscles sag with exhaustion, long bus rides blew. He found himself thinking about the last time he had slept in a real bed, he shuddered.. He would never have to do that sort of thing again. Murph smiled as much as he could in his weary state and nodded with gratitude. He hoped his brother didn't feel especially chatty that night, he really didn't think that he could go through the whole story just yet. Luck was on his side.

Drew must have noticed how tired he looked because with a quick, awkward hug, he toddled off into his living room to let Murphy get comfortable. Murph pushed the door to his new room and lightly shoved the boxes back enough to enter. He flicked on the bare bulb that hung in the middle of the room and the contents shone with a dim, yellow light. "What a dump, welcome home," he sighed with a small sad smile, but he felt relieved. He placed his belongings at the foot of his new-to-him bed and slid his tattered shirt from his lean body. Gently he wrapped his left arm around his waist and brought his right hand to his shoulder, across his chest. Murphy shivered slightly at the cool metal of his armbands as he embraced himself, his skin prickled into goosebumps and he sighed contentedly. Home indeed. He inhaled deeply, he took in the smell of cardboard and dust a hint of must and his smile grew to a grin. He had done it, this is the start to the adventure that was his new life. He sat on the edge of his new bed and pulled his guitar free from is fabric case, Murphy softly stroked the strings into a melancholy melody and sang to himself for an hour or so. _~I wish you were here, I wish you were.~_

When he fell asleep under borrowed blankets in a city he hadn't been since he was 15, he did so a free man.

Bellamy Blake was not happy. Today had been a particularly irritating day, he mussed his hair with his long fingers as he looked back on his morning. It had started just great- he woke up from falling asleep alone, only to find that he was still alone. Raven had left him a note neatly written on the whiteboard, "Slept on the couch, didn't want to wake you, left early xo." He showered and dressed in a nice dark grey suit with a green and silver tie. He dragged his feet, clad in expensive dress socks and he made it to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Only, when looked into the empty canister by the coffee maker, Bell found he had to use yesterdays grounds. 'Gross, why didn't we buy coffee?' he thought grumbly to himself. Bell poured the murky contents from the pot into his thermus, grabbed his briefcase and made for the door. After he had tied his shoes and took a last look in the mirror for good measure, he hit the automatic start on his Audi Q7... It backfired like a gunshot and even through the still closed door, Bellamy knew that his day had just gotten worse.

He went outside into the brisk morning air and a chill rolled through him, a chill caused by the billowing smoke that drifted from under the hood of his vehicle. "Fucking perfect," he growled, his voice was deep and gruff. Bell set his briefcase back inside the door and pulled out his cell while he walked to the smoking suv, he knew nothing of cars so he dialed Raven. He popped the hood and was nearly choked out by the cloud of smog that rose up to meet him. Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose, his cheeks were lightly dusted with freckles and tinged pink from the cold. The phone picked up and Raven sounded annoyed, he just coughed and tried to explain about what happened with the automatic starter.

"Well that could be a ton of shit, Bell. I will call that shop down the street and see if I can get it towed there. Im almost off anyway since I started early, so I can just head over to pick it up for when your off work." He huffed and agreed, she hung up before he could tell her he loved her. Bellamy slipped his phone back into his pocket and went back into the house to grab his case, he rifled through it and when he pulled out his wallet he noticed that all he had was $40 in cash. Seemed Raven had helped herself to his card this morning. Lovely. He called a cab and while he waited he dug free the secret cigarette he had hidden in his briefcase. He had quit smoking over four months ago but he always kept an emergency dart on him. 'Today is an emergency dart type of day,' he thought as he lit the dry end and took a lung full of caustic smoke. The cab pulled up a few minutes later and he crushed the cherry end of the cig against the step and tossed the butt into the hole in the dirt under it. 'Let's hope the day gets better..' sadly, it did not.

Work had gone alright, he supposed, but he was late for his morning meeting and the wife from the divorce case he was working on yelled for a good twenty or so. After that time flew until lunch where he met Atom and Monty. He had worked with Atom since he started at the firm and Monty was fresh out of law school. Both of them were good guys in Bell's books, both tenacious and loved the work they did, just like he did. They all ate together in the deli that was just across the road from Johnston and Berk, their office. Bellamy had been working for J&B since he was twenty-four, he had finished his bachelor's a year early and went through three years of law at the top of his class. Atom was in his year in school but he was a year older than Bell, they had become friends in law school and Atom joined him at the firm a month after he started there. In the last two years Bellamy had worked his way into a junior partner position with a fairly flawless case record. He was content.

After lunch he spent the rest of his afternoon in his office while he reviewed a fairly complicated case that he had coming up. He did a lot of domestic abuse cases pro bono, he didn't feel it was right to charge someone who only wanted their safety. This case reminded him of another complicated situation he had dealt with when he started at J&B. It was only his second case and he took it on for experience, there was a woman not much younger than himself who had went through hell with an ex. Clarke Griffin, she was sweet, blonde and a nursing student in her first year. The ex in question was a woman named Anya, and boy, was she a piece of work. Everything from stalking to breaking into Clarke's loft while she had slept. So she went to the police and got a semi worthless sheet of paper that said Anya couldn't be within 100ft of her, Anya walked right through that paper and torched Clarke's car. It was then that Clarke had made her way to J&B. Bellamy first met her in the lobby on his floor and he watched her shout at a secretary about outrageous hourly rates.

Bell smiled at the memory of how he had met his now best friend, what a firecracker. He finished reading the last witness statement in the file for the tenth time and slid it back into place as he closed the folder. He grabbed his cell off the desk from its place under the mess of papers and checked to see if Raven had picked up the car. The phone flashed blank, her face shone from his lockscreen and couldn't even bring himself to smile back. It was almost five and he didn't have a way home, he spent the majority of his cash on the cab to work and Raven still had his card. He tried to call her and a it went straight to voicemail, normally she only had her phone off while she was at work. Bell sighed at the memory of their call earlier where she had informed him that she would be off early. Right.

At five, he waved to his coworkers and made his way to the elevator that stood with bronze doors at the end of the lobby. This was his favourite part of their office. The walls were a pale, pale blue and the furniture was all dark wood and plush, blue fabric. There was a painting on the left that had streaks of teals, coppers, and greys on white, Bell loved the motion of it. The ashwood floor was polished and grey with a beautifully patterned area rug that stretched over the center of the room. There were black and bronze accents everywhere, on tables, lamps, in the little handmade glass candy dish on the counter. All in all it felt cool and elegant with an edge of strength to it, Bell liked to compare it to his manner in court. The doors opened with a soft ring, he stepped into the mirrored space beyond and pressed the button that signaled Ravens floor. A few moments later he was grumbling to himself again as he pulled his overcoat closer to his body and made for the bus stop. Apparently Raven hadn't been to work at all that day.

Bellamy decided that he could just walk to the downtown terminal, it was only a few blocks down from the firm and he needed to blow off some steam. His curly, dark hair blew about in the october wind and sometimes he would run his gloved hand through it in an attempt to tame it. People often told him to cut it, he was a professional after all, but he refused. Oddly there wasn't much in the way of snow on the ground and for that he was thankful, he didn't mind the cold but he hated snow. He made his way a few blocks down and then cut across a busy street with a crowd, the people around him bustled in either direction. 'Where could she have been all day..' Bell wondered, he looked at the sidewalk and turned the corner that lead to the terminal. He stood at the stop and pondered to himself about the whereabouts of his girlfriend of three years. It was nearing six at night when his bus finally pulled up and he watched the people flow out in a steady stream.

The people ahead of him started to file onto the bus when they suddenly stopped, Bell looked above them to see what had everyone frozen in place. There on the top step stood a young man, Bell was in awe. He let his eyes travel from the bottom of his black, untied combat boots all the way to the top of his brown and green hair that was finger-combed back. His face held a smirk and raised eyebrow in place and Bellamy couldn't help but let his eyes fall back to the boys pierced navel. That, amongst other things were clearly visible through the shredded top he was wearing. 'How is he not shivering..' Bell thought, unknowingly his tongue slipped to wet his bottom lip. As though he took notice to the slight movement, the boy settled his things and made his way past the other men in suits. He swung his bag around and it knocked Bellamy's arm, "He-" Bell started, but the boy just reached back behind him and flipped the bird without pausing. 'Nice..'

The rest of his bus ride was spent thinking back on the boy with the plum purple nail polish. He thought about the way the boys hair was flipped back and dyed green on the ends and how many belts he wore. 'How can that many belts be comfortable? I must be getting old..' Bellamy had never thought much on other men but there was something strangely feminine about the curve of the boys hips and the lines of his waist. 'What the hell am I thinking? That kid probably wasn't even old enough to get in to the bar..' he shook the idea from his head and spotted his stop up the road. Bell had chosen to just stop at the mechanic shop himself to pick up the suv so he pulled the cord and with a wave, stood and exited the bus. He walked to the door and saw the open sign in the window was still lit with a soft, orange light. The desk at the front was empty but the door was unlocked, 'weird..' Bell made his way inside and was about to call out for someone when he heard it, a breathy moan from work room. Raven.


	2. Chapter 2

-I hope you all liked the first chapter, sorry for the wait! So here is chapter 2, have fun and take a listen to this chapter's song.-

 _~Singing~ "Memory"_ 'Thoughts'

Song: Sugarcult - Pretty Girl

Chapter 2

Broken streams of light woke Murphy from his recurring nightmare in which he was a fly on the wall in Marcus's room that fateful night. He mentally gagged as he shook the phantom images of Abby's wrinkled tits from his mind's eye. The apartment was fairly quiet so either Drew was still asleep, which was likely, or he was at work. Much more likely, as Drew worked as a paralegal in a fairly large law firm. 'Pfft, golden child..' Murph thought as he slid from his blanket cocoon and sat on the edge of his bed.

His bare feet hit the cool floor, not hardwood but some sort of imitation crap, and he shivered involuntarily. The October chill must have seeped through the poor seal around his slightly frosted window that looked out over the Toronto cityscape. Murphy raised his arms and arched his back until he heard three satisfying pops, a heavy, satisfied sigh escaped his pink lips and he stood. For a moment he just continued to stand and peer through the tower of boxes at the overcast, grey sky. Buildings jutted up from the bottom of his view and he mused to himself how they resembled his cardboard towers that were strewn about in his room. He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a horn that blared angrily from the street below, 'good afternoon to you too,' he thought and he rummaged through his bag for something warm to wear.

After he was suitably dressed in lime green skinny jeans, the knees worn completely, and a horizontally striped shirt which was made from four different shades of dark fabric and skin tight, he sat at the small kitchen table to eat his frosted flakes. The blonde on the wall stared down from her frame and Murph smiled back around his spoon. Today he had planned to head a bit deeper into the city and hunt for a decent job to help pay his portion of the rent, even though Drew insisted that he stay rent free. 'Of course,' his inner sarcasm whispered, but after his restless first night he had decided to busk for some beer money instead. He finished his cereal with a slurp and a few metallic clinks, stood and rinsed his bowl and placed it in the half empty dishwasher.

It was nearly one in the afternoon by the time Murphy had applied his smudged eyeliner and made his way out into the city. He borrowed what he thought was an old jacket of Drew's from the front closet on his way past but when he tossed it around his shoulders after he rested his guitar on the wall outside, he realized it was a woman's coat. 'Oh well, at least it's warm, her fault for leaving it there..' The coat hung to his knees and was made from heavy black, wind resistant material. The hood, he noticed with a chuckle, was rimmed in fake, tri coloured fur. "Nice," Murphy said with a grin, he grabbed his guitar and made his way down the sidewalk to no particular destination.

Murphy walked down the cracked pavement and breathed the cool autumn air into his lungs through his nose. The smell of crisp fall leaves surrounded him and shot like electricity through his very core, to him nothing was better than the scents of fall. As he strode deeper into the bustling metropolis he let the wind whip his hair freely about and he reveled in the cool kiss on his scalp. Murph took in his surroundings as he moved down the street, he looked for the perfect spot to set up his one man show. It needed to be close to two things, a high traffic lunch spot like a strip of restaurants, and a bar.

He spotted a deli and a couple food trucks down the road that were lined up quite a ways and decided that the vacant corner across from them was a perfect location. Murph walked right off the edge of the sidewalk and through the traffic to his right, cars honked and one even screeched to a stop with it's driver hung out the window just to flip him off. He didn't care, it wasn't like the cars could go much further in the Toronto lunchtime jam anyway. He waved the irate motorist off and, as Murphy knew he would, he drove off without getting out of his car.

Despite the fact that it was mid afternoon the sun was blanketed in grey as Murphy opened the fabric guitar case. He pulled out Donna, his Paul Reed Smith, Artist II. Donna was covered in a custom teal finish, her body was made of maple, her fingerboard was made of rosewood and her six silver strings shone in contrast to the dark surface. The abalone bird inlay shone, the sparkle traced up her neck to the beautifully carved headstock, all of her hardware was custom, white gold plated. Donna was the only piece of his old life that he still had, Marcus purchased her for him on their very first real date.

Murph scoffed at that thought as he attached the braided, leather strap to Donna. 'First real date' was code for the dinner date they had the night after he let Marcus fuck him for the first time. Through all of the shit and despite how much he hated Marcus, the memory of that night.. The way his fingers slid over her cool, teal face was something he would never forget. No one had ever bought him anything before, definitely not something so expensive. He supposed, as he thought back on that night, he may have just been Marcus's paid whore. Murph felt the sting of tears prick against the back of his eyes. He wouldn't cry over Marcus Kane ever again, the wounds left by the older man may still have been fresh but he knew he just could not shed one more tear for the… love, yes love, that he had lost.

Murphy stood and hung Donna's strap over his head then unzipped the front of her fabric case to take out the small pa system he used for busking. The cool afternoon air made the cords stiff as Murph unraveled them and hooked Donna up to the book-sized speaker, he slipped a portable mic around his neck and clipped the box to one of his many belts. The little speaker's plastic outside was yellowed with age and it crackled to life, after a bit of an adjustment the static died down and Murph gave Donna a gentle strum so he could gauge the volume in the open air of the Toronto street. People ambled by, some spared him a quick glance while others walked with heads down and their noses pressed into the warmth of their winter wear. He thought again, while he sauntered through his warm up an tune, Murphy really had loved the older man.

Notes that came from the box on Murphy's belt had caught the attention of a few of the late lunch crowd but no one seemed any more than curious of the boy who stood alone with his plum purple nails. Abruptly he stopped his meandering and shook out his hands, after he adjusted the volume to a bit higher level he was ready.

The simple, haunted notes that sang languidly from Donna's beautiful, silver strings opened up Murphy's soul to the music. _~Pretty girl is suffering while he confesses everything.~_ He could feel the lyrics pour from his heart and into the mic, his pain, his loss. _~Pretty soon she'll figure out what his intentions were about-~_ Murph thought about how special and safe he had felt in the older mans arms, wrapped in the heat of his embrace. _~And that's what you get for falling again; you can never get him out of your head.~_ His body started to sway from side to side as he lived the song, _~and that's what you get for falling again; you can never get him out of your head.~_ Without warning, the music changed, and Murphy became so much more animated, anger had begun to replace his sadness and it showed in the aggressive square of his shoulders.

 _~It's the way that he makes you feel.~_

Angry, hurt, alone, worthless, free, special, needed, empty.

 _~It's the way that he kisses you.~_

In the rain, on the bed, over fancy dinners, while he could still taste himself on his tongue.

 _~It's the way that he makes you fall in love.~_

People had started to gather at this point, Murphy's passion permeated the chilled october air and passersby had turned with their street food or cellphones in hand to watch the hot mess in front of them. _~She's beautiful as usual with bruises on her ego and the killer instinct tells her to be aware of evil men.~_ If only someone had warned him, if only he would have listened. Murph let his head fall back and his eyes droop to barely there slits, he took two steps back while he played and stared at the grey, overcast sky. He couldn't hear anyone around him anymore, he was lost in his musical release. _~And that's what you get for falling again; you can never get him out of your head. And that's what you get for falling again; you can never get him out of your head.~_ The words tore from his throat in a fire, the flames licked up his esophagus and out of his mouth as he rotated his head over his right shoulder and cast his face toward the ground. Fingers moved gracefully and firm over Donna's strings, he could feel her cry for him, she wept her sad song along with his own, raw for the people of downtown Toronto.

When the last note fell from his lips, Murphy was left feeling lighter. He hadn't noticed while he was in the throws of his performance, the amount of people that had gathered to hear him empty his heart. The crowd exploded into applause and he bowed with a flourish. He played a few more songs, though none had quite the same effect as the emotionally charged display from earlier, the people of Toronto still filled Donna's fabric case with coins and bills of all sizes. Murphy had earned every penny with his artful movements and amazing talents, after all was said and done, his legs and throat were alight with the slight burn of overuse. Worth it. The music had lifted him and wrapped him in the high that came with performing for a crowd, he still buzzed with energy as he packed Donna away and counted his earnings. $300, not bad for two hours work, he thought. Murphy was sure he would like Toronto, the people here were generous with their tips and they had truly seemed to enjoy him, even if most of them were clad in fancy suits and pumps that cost more than his first car.

The moans that came from the open door that led to the workroom, Bellamy knew them well. He had elicited those moans from his girlfriend on several occasions. He took a shaky step toward the counter and the gaping maw that the door had become in his mind's eye. He could hear the rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh, Ravens flesh. The pace had picked up and his girlfriends moans and pants had become more frantic and needy, she was close. Bellamy had reached the door and his fingers grazed the cool metal of the door handle, his head swam, his mouth was dry. Silently he prayed to whatever power that existed that he was wrong, all the while he was frozen in place with his hand on the door.

"Raven, f-fuck, I'm going to.. Fuck!" The voice of his mechanic, Finn, shuddered through the maw. At Raven's answering scream, Bellamy pushed the door the rest of the way open, not entirely prepared for what he saw beyond. There was Raven, legs splayed open for the world, greasy fingerprints smeared across her thighs. They hadn't noticed him yet, Finn slipped his wilting member from Raven's opening and he shuffled back to zip up the dirty coveralls that he still wore. Bellamy took that quick second to snicker a bit, the wet spot that covered Finn's crotch made it look like he pissed himself, Raven was a squirter apparently. Not that she had ever done such a thing with him. Maybe she preferred to get fucked on a dirty shop floor like a filthy, mewling animal.

The soft snort of Bellamy's laughter made Raven's head shoot up from the spot she laid and panted. "Bell! What the fuck are you doing here?" She screeched, trying to scrabble for any piece of cloth or dignity left in the dinghy shop, Bellamy could see she wanted to hide, she wanted to cover her shame and hide it away from him like she had hid all of her love these last few months. Finn just looked between the two with his mouth doing a fine impression of a fish out of water. When Raven couldn't find a scrap of clothing around her she slammed her legs shut and pulled down her now soiled top, but not before Bellamy saw the mechanics seed squelch out onto the bare concrete beneath the two. So apparently she wasn't the same cold, safe, clean, vanilla woman with Finn as she was with Bell. Go figure.

"I came to pick up my car, I didn't think I would find my mechanic balls deep in my ex when I got here, lucky me." Bellamy carefully put into place the cool façade that he wore in court. He turned his gaze to said ex-fucker and raised a well groomed brow, "So, I assume I get a great discount, seeing as the cash, gas or ass requirements have been at least part way met?" Finn finally snapped out of his stupor and he pulled himself to his feet, still without a word, and quickly he strode to the door where Bellamy stood. Bell didn't move at first, he just looked down his nose at the greasy man in front of him for a moment and then he stepped to the side just enough for Finn to push past him and scrape his back along the door frame on his way. When the sound of papers being shuffled and drawers banging open and closed could be heard from the front of shop, Bell turned back to Raven.

She still sat on the floor, probably in a now cool, sticky puddle of cum. Raven looked utterly debauched, hair mussed and lips swollen from what Bell assumed was cock. Yet her face held a defiant tilt, "Bellamy, you should have just called me to come pick you up, I could have brought your car." The fact that she spoke so casually from her mess on the floor made Bell's stomach tighten, he was disgusted with himself, with the feelings he used to have for this woman, for the time he wasted with her. His feelings must have shown on his face because Raven's eyes glanced down for just a moment before she stared into his again, a pout now coloured her features. "W-what did you mean your ex? Bell?" How she could believe that her sad attempt to sway his decision would have any effect on his mood whatsoever was laughable, and laugh Bellamy did.

"Now, I know you've got to be joking, Raven. What did you think I meant?" He laughed again, there was no humour in it. "Did you think I would just pick you up out of the mess you two made on the floor of this shitty auto shop and what? Wash another mans sum off of your body, wrap you up in a big, fluffy towel and take you into my bed again? Like none of this fucked up day happened?" As his smile grew he could see Raven's emotions play one after the other across her face like a black and white film from the era of silent comedy. First shock, shock that Bellamy had had the nerve to reject her, even after what he had seen. Shock was followed by rage, pure and unfiltered rage. Rage, Bellamy hoped was directed at herself but he could tell it was all for him. Wishful thinking. Finally, and most surprisingly, he could see a tinge of sadness in her glare. It was over and she knew it.

"Will you tell anyone?" Ah, he thought, there it is. He had held a sliver of hope that her sadness was regret but it was just fear of tarnish on her reputation in the office. Bellamy's smile fell and he suddenly felt very tired and very much over this whole situation. He shook his head and turned his back to the woman he once thought he loved.

Finn stood behind him with the keys to his black, Audi A6 in one hand, and Ravens pants in the other. The man looked pale as the dead, his eyes fell somewhere below Bell's gaze but above the tip of his nose, pathetic. Finn's hand shook as he held up the keys, it was just enough of a tremor for Bellamy to notice but he doubted the woman on the floor behind him could see. "Hey man, yeah, no worries, it's on me." The words were tight and Bellamy knew he was trying to act like a big man in front of Raven.

Bellamy's eyes turned to ice, a look that had reduced many men to quivering slime in court, the mechanic was no exception. "Thanks, man." He said the last word with exaggerated slowness, he wanted to punch the other man, feel the cartilage in his nose flatten. He wanted to do oh so much more than just take his keys and leave, but he settled for the subtle jab and the look on Finn's face when he grabbed Ravens pants and took both his bank card and the credit card he gave her from one of her tiny pockets. "Don't bother coming to the apartment, I will have your things moved to your mothers and I'm changing the fucking locks as soon as I leave this shit hole. Do _not_ call me for money and if you think I am going to keep paying your phone bill, you will be in for a rude awakening."

The engineered sadness fell from Ravens face and was replaced by a snarl as Bellamy walked past her and the Kia that was still up on the lift behind her. Bell strode without looking back until he reached his Audi, the sleek, black paint reflected his countenance and he met his own eyes in a defeated stare. The shop was still as the dead while he paused to pick up the fractured pieces of his heart before he shot one last dagger at his ex girlfriend of three years, "Oh and Raven, tell your mother that you and I won't be needing that ring I had her purchase with her card so you wouldn't see, the cats outta the bag and you clubbed it to death." With that, Bellamy opened the overhead with the button beside his A6 and slid into the leather drivers seat. He had held his composure until he was almost out of the small, front parking lot where he slammed the car into gear and left two sizzling black marks all the way to the stop sign that he blew at the corner.

Bellamy was on autopilot through the next few days, Raven had tried to call him every night and every night Bellamy ignored her and called his closest confidant, Clarke. He felt like a child, he acted like one too and he knew it. Before the three year commitment that he had with Raven, he had never even remotely felt more than a fleeting fancy. It was new territory for him and he didn't like it. He looked to the small pane of glass on his desk that displayed the time from the black stand it was set in. It was nearly time for him to leave work and meet up with his exuberant friend for some much needed drinks and what Clarke called a 'forget me fuck'.

He propped his Armani clad foot on to his desk and skimmed a case file for his upcoming trial on Monday, it was an open and shut situation. The wife, a career woman in finance, finally tried to make an amicable break from her lazy, leech of a husband. The only problem? No prenup, and the s.o.b was trying to take her for half. The solution? Bellamy had obtained some pretty nasty video clips of the husband and the female nanny. And the male nanny. He thumbed through one of the statements from the young man that worked for the family, the only reason the kid gave the statement was because the husband had apparently stopped paying for his cellphone. Ah, kids these days…

Bell jumped as the small, glass clock on his desk chirped once, quickly. 8:00pm, it was time. While Bellamy was excited, he was also nervous to have been out of the game for so long. The thought of choking on his 'forget me fuck' adventure was, if only a little, unsettling. They were going to Uniun, from what he understood, it was a fairly nice club on Adelaide that he had never been to before. Bellamy didn't much care for the noise level of most clubs but Clarke said there would be 'so many half naked hotties' running around, he probably wouldn't mind the volume. He turned with file in had to the front of his office, his dark blue, pinstriped jacket was folded neatly over his arm. A quick turn at the door told him that he had put everything in its rightful place except for the papers in his hand, which he was about to pass to his assistant Harper.

Bellamy flicked the light switch and pivoted on his left foot toward Harpers desk, he straightened with a start. Raven was sitting with her feet atop a small pile of paperwork that was on the desk. His mask fell into place with ease and he huffed in mild annoyance, "what are you doing here Raven, I thought I made it pretty clear that I don't want to look at you right now." Bell knew the tone he used was sharp as glass, he wasn't in the mood for this crap. The brunette lowered her feet and hung her head in what looked like shame, she was going to try and sway his decision. He knew this was going to happen but he didn't expect it to be so soon, he supposed in the years that they were together, Raven hadn't ever really seen him this irate. She didn't know that Bellamy Blake could hold a fucking grudge.

"Bell," Her voice cracked as she shot her big, brown doe eyes at him through her bangs. "Bell I miss you, I'm so sorry, it was a mistake…" As he looked into her eyes, he was reminded of that day, when he found her and Finn the mechanic tangled in the afterglow of climax. In his mind, her eyes went from soft and pleading to angry and indifferent, her tasteful business attire melted into the grease smeared top she wore that day. Bellamy hardened his resolve and put his right hand up in front of her face to silence the stream of what he was sure would be bullshit from spewing out of her mouth. She made a small, indignant choke with her lips slightly parted. Those lips looked nothing like the cock swollen lips she formed into a pout that day.

"Look Raven, we are done. You did this. You, not me." Bellamy kept his cold stare locked on her as he spoke in a steady voice. His no more bullshit voice, she knew it well. "Did your crap not make it to your moms? What possessed you to come up here to my office, what the fuck did you do to Harper? She wouldn't have let you within twenty feet of this door." Ravens face twisted then, contorted into an ugly sneer. She obviously had thought she could worm her way back into his good graces with some puppy eyes and a cheap, low cut blouse. Hilarious. She crossed her arms like a petulant child who wasn't getting their way, Bell wondered how he had ever been attracted to such a woman. Even though he knew there was really nothing that he found more unappealing than a childish woman, his heart still ached to touch her caramel skin, to glide through her beautiful, brown locks. Bell squashed that thought as soon as it arose in his mind, it was companionship he craved, not the sad excuse for a woman in front of him.

At that moment, Harper slammed through the door at the end of the hall and she let our a growl that barely sounded human. "Raven, you cunt, what the fuck did you put in the coffee?" She was pale and as she stomped closer, Bell noticed that she looked rather shaken, Harper never looked shaken. She was a strong and decisive woman who took no shit from anyone and that's exactly why Bellamy had hand picked her to be his assistant. When she got within five feet of her desk, Raven was already up and around the other side which placed the large, dark wood desk in between them. Harper paused for a moment and grasped at her lower abdomen with her pale hand. "I swear by all the old Gods that I will end you Raven Reyes. Hungh.." with the last word of her threat on her tongue, Harper groaned and turned on the spot to run back through the door at the end of the hall.

Bellamy glanced back at Raven who looked shaken, "what the fuck did you do to Harper?" Rage bubbled just below the surface of his cold features. It wasn't enough that she called and harassed him every night, now she had to go and poison his assistant? Bell was furious. Just as Raven opened her mouth to explain herself, Bells cell phone went off. He recognized the upbeat, Korean pop song that Clarke had set for her ringtone. He could judge by the look on Ravens face that she knew who it was as well. She had always hated Clarke, sure that Bellamy kept her as a 'piece of ass' on the side. Yeah, cause apparently the fact that Clarke was always knee deep in pussy meant nothing. He pulled out the little electronic device just as it reached his favourite part of the foreign song.

"Hey, yeah, I'm on my way. No, just taking out some trash, I'll take a car, figure we won't be driving tonight." He hung up and then cut Raven off as soon as she opened her mouth again, "look. I don't want to hear what you have to say so why not save yourself some time and back the fuck up before I hit you with a restraining order so fucking airtight, you won't ever see this floor again. Now get back down to the pit, where you belong, and don't ever let me see your face up here again." The single tear that slid down Ravens cheek almost made Bell's features soften, that was, until she reached over and shoved all of the stacked papers off the one side of Harpers desk to the floor. "Real mature, totally helping your case right now Rae."

She snarled and stomped right past him to the same door at the end of the hall in which Harper came and went already. Bell heard it slam open against the far wall but he didn't turn to watch her leave, instead he cleaned up the mess she had made, left a note for Harper that read 'come see me Monday morning, I'm so sorry,' and called for a car on his way out of the office. The minutes flew by and with each one he felt his need for tonight grow and grow, he need to work out some of this stress before he gave himself grey hair. The car pulled up at half past 8 and he knew he would be receiving another phone call from Clarke at any moment, she wouldn't want him to miss out of pre drinks before the main event. He sighed as he got into the black Honda and his cell began to sing out in Korean again.


End file.
